


The Suburbs of Hell

by Starlingthefool



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, Army AU, Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlingthefool/pseuds/Starlingthefool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’ve watched half your squad mates get blown apart, and taken a few rounds to the gut yourself, all you really want is a shot of morphine and someone to hold your hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Suburbs of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [A/E Last Drabble Writer Standing](http://ae-ldws.livejournal.com).
> 
> Warnings for blood and war and references to Iraq. Can be taken as an AU or pre-canon.

“I wouldn’t look at those if I were you,” the medic says on the way to the field hospital, moving Arthur’s hands away from the bandages. “Let them do their job, yeah?”

Arthur blinks at him, morphine haze thick and heavy in his mind. “Is it bad?” he slurs.

“Not the worst I’ve seen today,” the man says. Which is no answer at all, really, if his day has been even half as bad as Arthur’s. “Do you remember what happened?

“Got pinned down. Half my squad is dead,” Arthur informs him. His hand drifts back towards than blood-stained cotton wrapped around his torso.

The medic grabs his hand again, holds it. “Fucking Fallujah, mate. If this ain’t hell, it’s in the suburbs.”

Arthur tries to look down, and the man stops him. “Told you not to look. I don’t need you panicking on my table.” As Arthur settles back down, the medic asks, “What’s your name, kid?”

“‘m not a kid,” he mumbles.

“But you do have a name, don’t you?”

Arthur licks his dry lips.”Arthur. You?”

“Eames. You Army?”

“Marines. Fourth Combat Engineer Battalion.”

“Based out of New Orleans, aren’t you?” Eames asks inanely. “Love that town.”

 _He’s trying to keep me conscious,_ Arthur thinks. “Summers are hell. Makes me miss the mountains.”

“They can’t be worse than here,” Eames replies. “Which mountains?”

“Colorado Front Range. Little town called Golden. Ever been?”

“Not yet,” Eames says. “Should I visit?”

“It’s beautiful, but don’t bother. Am I going to die?”

“Up to you, isn’t it?” Eames replies lightly. But he squeezes Arthur’s hand.

“Guess not, then.”


End file.
